by Keary Taylor
“’K,” I say, resting my forehead against his. I close my eyes and try to calm the nervous fire ants that are marching through my veins right now. “Thank you.”
“This is sweet and all, but we’ve got a plane to catch,” Hadley says as she actually pulls us apart and tosses me my sandals. “Let’s move people!”
And off we go, back to LA, and to the wolves.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Wait, wait,” I say as I pull my headphones off. “That’s supposed to go A, G, A, A.”
“It sounds more radio-playable this way,” Matt says.
“But that’s not the way I wrote it,” I say timidly. I don’t know my boundaries or place yet. How much can I demand, and how much do I have to bend to their will.
“How about we record it both ways, and then we’ll see what everyone says?” Matt offers mercifully. But I have a feeling he’s just humoring me.
“Fine,” I say.
I’m tired. It’s been a long day. I haven’t gotten any lunch or dinner. And I haven’t seen Kale for more than a few minutes at a time the past eight days. It’s been constant work.
We’ve finished recording “Just a Girl Named Whitney,” “Distance,” and “Glow.” Today we’re working on “Pay Me In Rainbows and Love.”
I put my headphones back on, and I sing like a good girl.
When we’re done that day, I’m whisked into meetings with Hadley and the managers at Elysium. They’ve booked an exclusive, invitation only show for two weeks from today. There will be eight hundred people invited, plus the press. They’ll make video promos that will be used in music videos, it’ll be on the news. Reviews will be going up. The same night, my very first, full length album will be up for pre-sale, and “Angel On Your Shoulder” will release.
One week after the album goes for sale at the beginning of November, I’ll leave on tour. An initial six weeks. And if things go well, if the shows sell out, and the album does well, we’ll immediately start recording a second album.
The studio is already asking for another set of twelve songs and at least two bonus tracks for that.
I can barely wrap my head around this first, much less think about the second.
But they want a second.
Every day, I just marvel at how lucky I am. So many people try so hard for so long to break into this industry. And it just happened for me.
I can only be overwhelmed, but grateful.
On Monday, Hadley wakes me up with a phone call.
“The single is done,” she says excitedly. “Elysium wants you to come in and have a listen to it.”
“It’s done-done?” I ask as I sit up and rub at one eye. I don’t get far up, Kale’s arm is flopped over my stomach.
“Yep, they said it should be up for pre-order any second now. Get your skinny little ass down here.” She gives an excited little squeal and hangs up.
“What’s going on?” Kale asks groggily. He’s lying on his stomach, so his face is half buried in his pillow. I’m not sure how he can breathe.
“‘Angel’ is done,” I say, lying back down and snuggling myself into his side. “I’m supposed to head into the studio and listen to it. Wanna come with me?”
Kale opens his eyes fully and reaches out to brush his fingertips over my cheek. “Of course.”
“I mean,” I say as I place my hand over his and trap his fingers there. “It is your song, so it should have your approval.”
He smiles. “If it came out of your mouth, it’s perfect.” He then rolls away from me and pulls something out of the night stand.
When he rolls back toward me, he’s holding a long black box. He’s got this slightly nervous look on his face, like he wasn’t sure if he should do this or not. “Happy one month anniversary.”
“What?” I say breathily. “It’s been a month? And you remembered?”
“Of course,” he chuckles. “August nineteenth will always be the day my life forever changed.” He says it dramatically, but also with sincerity.
I open the box and find something that makes the back of my eyes sting.
It’s a necklace. Beautiful white gold. There’s a locket in the middle of the box. But the traditional heart is formed by two angel wings folding into each other. I carefully pull it open. On one side is a selfie I took of the two of us. It’s not great, and there’s too much sun behind us so it’s terribly bright, but we’re kissing, looking so happy. It actually turned out accidentally beautiful.
The other picture is one from the photo shoot. It’s our hands together. Fingers locked tight. Somehow, the photographer managed to capture the nervousness I was feeling in my hands. But Kale’s, so strong and confident, hold mine, just like he holds me every night, telling me that everything will be okay and that I can do this.
“Kale,” I breathe. “This is…this is amazing.” The emotion becomes thicker in my voice, making it difficult to talk. “It’s perfect.”
There’s instant relief on his face, knowing he made a perfect move. He pulls it from the box and sits up. I climb into his lap, and he secures it behind my neck. “This way, if you start feeling nervous before a performance, you can feel that I’m always right there with you.”
“And you’re the only opinion that matters, so I can always just be myself,” I say as my fingers close around the locket. I lean forward and breathe my lips against his. Every cell in my body is magnetized to his. My soul wants to climb out of me and permanently attach itself to him.
“I love you, Whitney,” he says quietly as his fingers climb under my night gown to settle on my bare sides. “More and more every day.”
And I think maybe, just maybe I’m ready to say it back, when there’s a knock on my door, and then Tony lets himself in.
“Oh, uh…” he says uncomfortably as he looks away. The wall behind him is suddenly very interesting. “Sorry, Miss Ford, but we need to get going.”
“Don’t mind us, Tony,” Kale says with an annoyed chuckle as I climb off of him.
Ten minutes later, the both of us are dressed and headed to the studio. There was a huge crowd outside the doors, but Tony is very good at making a hole and looking very scary-get-out-of-my-way.
We pull into the underground parking garage and head into the building. I’m a pro at navigating my way around now and head right up to the ninth floor.
And I wear Kale’s bright yellow heels.
The producers are all happy to see Kale, cause every time they see us together, it means that we’re still together, and that still means rolling publicity for me and my upcoming album. They could care less if Kale and I actually like each other.
Much less maybe love each other.
“And cue the magic,” Matt says.
Someone presses play and the guitar solo I recorded blares over the speakers overhead.
It’s not quite what I anticipated. It’s a faster tempo than I expected all the background instrumentation to be. It’s more upbeat. When I wrote it, it was soulful and heartfelt and so make-you-want-to-fly first love feel. And all that is still there. Sort of. And it’s more.
This makes you want to get up and dance. It makes you want to find someone and kiss them. It makes you want to confess your true feelings and not wait another second longer.
When the song is over, everyone looks at me expectantly.
“I love it,” I confess with a gush. “It’s amazing.”
“Yes!” they all cheer. Some of them even clap. Hadley squeals and bounces in her seat. “I knew you’d love it.”
“Knew?” I ask.
“Okay, cat’s out of the bag, we all heard it yesterday,” she says sheepishly. “But I just knew you were going to be thrilled with it.”
“Okay people,” the head honcho, Veronica, says over the happy din going on. “We are good to go. I want this shipped out to every radio station and that pre-order being advertised like it’s on fire. I want this playing everywhere by the end of this week!”
“And that means it’s time to
get back in the studio, missy!” Hadley says happily as everyone leaves their seats and starts shuffling out of the conference room.
“I’ll be in the booth in just a few minutes,” I say to her and Matt who are waiting on me expectantly.
And I have this weird moment of fear and pride. All these people are here for me. For me. Not just because of Kale. But because of me. Because of my voice. They’ve invested money into me. They’ve invested their time. They want me to succeed. And the pressure is so scary. Cause I’m constantly afraid that I’ll trip and fall flat on my face in the figurative way that I usually literally do.
But they’re looking at me like I can really do this. Like I really can rise up and be the star they’re hoping for.
“Five minutes,” Matt says, holding up the same number of fingers.
And they all leave Kale and I alone, standing just outside the conference room.
“So, what did you think?” I ask as I take his hands in mine. I still hate how much taller than him I am with the heels, but I could practically float away with how pumped up I feel.
“If you’re happy with it, I’m happy,” he says. But I see something there in his eyes that isn’t quite so convincing.
“What? No. You hated it,” I say. And I instantly get shot out of my hot air balloon.
“No, I didn’t hate it,” he says with a sigh, trying to recover. “It’s just…”
“What?”
“It’s just it sounds different when you sing it,” he confesses. He pulls me slightly closer. “When you’re singing it to me, I feel... Everything. And the recording just makes me feel…like I’m back at high school prom.”
I laugh. Cause that’s exactly the way it makes me feel. “Oh my gosh, you’re so right,” I say. “And I think that’s exactly what they were going for.”
Kale shrugs and shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Let the rest of the world get that version. I’ll take my private shows every night. I’ll take my version and feel like the luckiest damn man alive knowing I’m the one you wrote it for.”
“The one I wrote it about,” I add with a smile as I pull him closer and press a kiss to his lips.
“Luckiest damn man in the universe,” he mumbles into my kiss.
“Whitney, five minutes is up,” Matt says demandingly.
I don’t even look away from Kale as our kiss deepens. I simply raise my middle finger in Matt’s direction.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Nothing about life in LA ever slows down. Studio time. More photo shoots. More interviews with the local TV stations. More studio time.
And no more time for Kale and me than an hour here, two hours there on the weekend.
It sucks.
I’d really be freaking out about it, but Kale is being so relaxed about it. He’s being so understanding and chill. I remind myself that he knows what it’s like to have a hectic schedule that keeps him occupied for the vast majority of his days.
So I treasure our nights together, wrapped up, just the two of us like there’s nothing else in the world.
And before I know it, I’m done recording the album. All twelve are original songs that I wrote. The studio works even longer hours than me to get the instrumentation done and all the back end stuff.
Two days before the private event, they give me the preliminary album. It’s not totally finished. But it’s awesome. They’re my songs. With some changes to rhythm or some notes, but they’re still my songs.
I’ve already written three new songs during this crazy process. Somehow, when I wake up in the mornings, see Kale sleeping next to me, feel his warm body tucked next to mine, I feel inspired. It isn’t hard to pull words out of that magical air around us.
This life of mine, it’s complicated and hectic, but it’s also amazing.
And then, it’s the night of the concert. Ming flew down to be here. We spent the afternoon together, and she had to keep talking me down all day. But then we’re at the venue. We run through a sound check. They fiddle with lights. And then I’m backstage, Ming is out in the crowd, and people are once again dressing me. They put me in this sparkly silver dress that looks amazing, but is a bit tighter than I’m comfortable with. I don’t have much choice in the matter. They do my hair, curling it, just like it was in that viral video. Put on about three times the amount of makeup I normally wear. My signature bright red lipstick goes on.
I hear people filing into the huge space. It’s standing room only.
And I start panicking.
This is it. My real launch. What if I screw it up? What if I forget my lyrics? What if I let everyone down and what if I embarrass myself?
But then my fingers close around Kale’s locket. I remember how much his eyes shine in admiration when he hears me sing. I remember the words he whispers in my ear when it’s just the two of us together.
And then I look to the side and see him coming up the stairs onto backstage.
I break away from the girl that’s still messing with my hair and launch myself into his arms.
“You’ll be here the whole show, right?” I ask as I search his eyes. “Promise you won’t leave?”
“I promise,” he says with the most prideful grin I’ve ever seen. “I’m going to be right here, the entire time.”
“Cause otherwise all the females out there will maul you to death.” I’m trying to joke, but it just comes out sounding weird.
He humors me though and laughs. “Cause I like the view from behind.” There he is, cocky, confident Kale McCain.
“Two minutes,” a stagehand tells me.
“Two minutes,” I squeak. “One hundred twenty seconds.”
“It’s okay,” Kale says, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. I’m enjoying it too much to worry about him messing up my bright red lipstick. “It’s time to go knock them dead.”
I nod, rubbing my lips together, quick and hard, a nervous tic, like I’m whacked.
“Stop,” Kale says, actually reaching up and pinching my lips closed. “Just take a deep breath, and go do your thing.”
The intro music to “Glow” starts, and my heart goes from rocket to warp speed.
“I got this,” I say, hoping to fake it till I make it.
“You got this.”
I let him go. I take a deep breath. And when I hear my cue, I walk out onto the stage.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Number twelve.
That’s where “Angel On Your Shoulder” lands after being for sale for only one week. After being played on the radio. After getting endless requests. Number twelve on the top charts.
The album is sitting at number twenty-six and creeping up every day.
How?
What?
Just…how is this all falling into place?
The tour is all lined up and tickets are selling fast and crazy. New York, Florida, Texas, Washington, Utah, Illinois. And then over to London, and then Sydney. Six weeks I’ll be traveling.
Elysium has already basically told me that I need to plan on starting the second album as soon as I get back from tour. The contract hasn’t been drawn up, but from how they talk, it’s as good as done.
Every other day, I’m doing radio interviews. Hadley is always on the phone scheduling one thing or another for me. I may be done in the studio for now, but I still don’t get more than two seconds to breathe every day.
Except for one Monday in the middle of October. I’m not supposed to have anything going on, so I very much look forward to getting to sleeping in, and spending a blissful morning in bed with Kale. Maybe go out for lunch somewhere private. Go out to the beach, even.
But no. Our lives won’t permit that.
The ring of Kale’s phone cuts through the quiet morning. I grunt, prodding him in the side to wake him up. He sleeps like the dead.
“Kale, that’s yours,” I say groggily.
He still doesn’t rouse, so I climb over the top of him, and grab his phone from the nightstand.
The ID
says Calvin.
“Hello,” I say with a yawn as I answer it for Kale.
“I need him up and looking fresh in exactly two and a half minutes,” Calvin starts spouting off in that annoyed business voice of his. “Shurrock has this last minute shoot they want done and I need him now.”
“Kale,” I say as I rock back and forth on top of him. “Calvin. Camera. Shower. Now.”
“No,” he groans. “It’s still Monday. Monday is we day.”
“He said no,” I say to Calvin. My eyes keep wanting to slide closed. I actually lie down again, back to back on top of Kale. He’s a total stomach sleeper.
“He doesn’t get to say no,” Calvin scoffs. “Tell him a car will be there to pick him up in ten minutes.” Calvin hangs up on me.
I roll off of Kale and shove him toward the edge of the bed. “Get up. Calvin said so.”
“It’s supposed to be Simon said so,” he groans as he grasps for pillows and sheets so he won’t fall off.
“Not today,” I say with a chuckle as I give him one more shove and he falls right off the bed.
I hear him start laughing and peek over the edge of the bed at him. “You really just pushed me off the bed. I can’t believe you did that!”
“It worked,” I giggle. “You’re awake.”
And my eyes drift south. Because, oh, is he ever awake.
“Good mor-ning,” Kale says dramatically. I meet his eyes again, and he waggles his eyebrows at me.
My face goes beet red. “Oh my gosh,” I say as I pull a blanket over my head. “Go shower before you kill me.”
“It would be an even better morning if you joined me,” he says as he stands, raising an eyebrow at me. Before I can say anything, he starts walking toward the bathroom. And when he steps over the threshold, he hooks his thumbs in the elastic band of his boxer briefs, and slips them down.
Oh. My. Heavens.
If that isn’t the most beautiful man-ass there ever was.
Kale closes the door behind him, as if he’s completely oblivious to what he just did.
And I know that something has changed.